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WAR MOTHERS 



WAR MOTHERS 



By 
EDWARD F. GARESCHE, S.J. 




NEW YORK CINCINNATI CHICAGO 

BENZIGER BROTHERS 

PUBLISHERS OF BENZIGER'S MAGAZINE 

1918 



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Copyright, 1918, 
By Benzigbr Brothers 



NOV 23 - 



TO JOYCE KILMER 

Who died in France in the Service of his 
Country, July Thirtieth, Nineteen Eighteen 

Who shall bear me this token 

SMALL 

Unto Our Lady past the skies? 
Who shall give it, faults and all, 
Unto the pity of her eyes? 

There is one, but lately gone. 
Whom tenderly she looks upon. 
Will you take it to her, friend ? 
And with the gift my heart i send. 



CONTENTS 






PAGE 


Dedication 


. 5 


War Mothers 


9 


Our Lady op the Battlefield 


. 19 


On Women's Day . 


21 


To the Blessed Jeanne D 'Arc 


. 29 


To A Warrior Gone 


37 


To Sergeant Joyce Kilmer I 


. 43 


To Sergeant Joyce Kilmer II . 


47 


Mother of Orphans . 


. 51 


To His Mother 


55 



WAR MOTHERS 

T DREAM 

-■• White, eager faces ; and mine ears 

Are haunted with a sound of hidden 
tears. 

Yet ye that meet me smile and mildly- 
cheerful seem. 

Whence is this sound of grief that 
haunts the days, 

And where its hidden ways? 

' ' I have an only son, ' ' she said, 
''Yonder to France last morn he sped, 
May holy angels guard his head.'' 
And then she smiled. 
I warrant that pale smile knew more 
Of courage, fortitude, and pain 
Than where yon stalwart legions pour 

9 



WAR MOTHERS 

To scale the roaring heights amain. 
While her brave lips their smiling 

kept, 
I heard — it was her heart that wept. 

''And mine/* 

Another spake, ''have gone away all 

three ; 
One on the sea to guard the ships 

would fare, 
His father's sword the other lad 

would bear, 
And, both their separate dangers to 

combine. 
The third goes questing on the 

desperate air. ' ' 
So did she smile, but in her heart 

there bled [red. 

A triple wound, and every gash was 
10 



WAR MOTHERS 

''And my two sons," another spake, 
''Have left me for their country's 

sake. 
I know not where they are, but know 
God's mightiness doth guard them 

where they go." 
And she 
Smiled likewise. But my inner heart 

could see 
Her heart — and it was agony. 

Ah, mothers, who with wistful gaze 
Have watched your lissom sons grow 

tall. 
And kept 

Such vigils 'er them while they slept, 
And seen them rise 
To such young strength and glory, 

one and all, 

11 



WAR MOTHERS 

Till you can trace 

Their father's youthful beauty in 

their face 
And feel your heart grow young 
Along with their sweet growing, and 

it seems 
They shall fulfil your dearest dreams 

of dreams, 
And on their brows your very soul is 

hung, 
And all your heartstrings woven with 

their days — 

Do you remember how you wished 

that they, 
These tiny, clinging, winsome babes, 

would wait 
Awhile in the first rosy blush of 

days — 
12 



WAR MOTHERS 

And not so soon grow great 

And win to man's estate, 

Leaving you lonely, widowed of their 

play, 
Their dear dependence, and their 

tender ways ? 
As well beseech the dawning to delay. 

Do you remember when, 
With mingled joy and sorrow, 
You woke — and they were men 
'Twixt yester and to-morrow ? 
And you, uncertain if to laugh or 

grieve, 
This new, strange, stalwart creature 

must receive. 
Wheedle his rude and awkward 

strength, [length. 

Surprise his bashful confidence at 

13 



WAR MOTHERS 

And for the future plan 
Of the commencing man, 
Yet half regretful still to lose the 
child? 

And now they all are gone. 

The dusty lines pour on 

To shore, to ship, to battle o'er the 

seas. 
In fiery haste, elate 
With valor new and great. 
Who are these legions, and what limbs 

are these? 
They are the worthy sons 
Of these most valiant ones — 
These mothers who can send them 

forth and smile. 
No eye must see or guess 
That inward, dry distress; 

14 



WAR MOTHERS 

The heart must hide its bloody tears 
awhile. 

Jesu and Mary ! It but seems a year 
Since these great lads as tiny were as 
dear — 

Yea, since their mothers' bosoms still 

« 

could hold 
Their tender, helpless limbs and cuddle 

them from cold. 
These smiling mothers watch the 

ranks and see, 
Beneath the man that is, the babe that 

used to be. 

Ah, who then shall console 

These women who give up their better 

soul? 
"Who, merciful, impart 

15 



WAR MOTHERS 

Deep solace to their brave and 
wounded heart? 

On Calvary 

The most afflicted Mother stands. 

Her soul is crucified ; for she 

Sees her dear Son with wounded 

Heart and Hands. 
She gives Him, anguished, to the 

shameful tree, 
Of her great love for Grod, for men, 

and me. 
Ah, then, shall any fate 
Of their sweet sons make mothers 

desolate ? 
Shall they not rather take 
Comfort for Mary's sake, 
Giving, as she could give, [live? 

Their dearest sons that other sons may 
16 



WAR MOTHERS 

These mothers know the best, 
Having thus suffered, what the Virgin 

bore. 
Thus her maternal breast 
Shall mother them, who knew such 

sorrow sore — 
This is dear anguish, this is heart's 

true gain 
Through bitter pain. 
Their woe 

A triple blessing shall bestow. 
Unto their hearts a peace, 
Bright glory to their sons 
Who dare the roaring guns, 
And to the free 
A rapturous victory ! 
Smile, brave mother, smile, 
Till, here or afterwhile, [to thee ! 

Sweet Mary leads thy brave son back 

17 



OUR LADY OF THE BATTLE- 
FIELD 

AH, in that turmoil of revengeful 
flame 
I see them fall! I see their startled 

eyes 
Go wandering to the blue, unshaken 

skies, 
And hear their quivering lips repeat 
— a Name: 

''Mother!" in every mortal tongue 

the same. 
The first they learned to lisp, the last 

to rise 
From their parched throats. They 

yearn in childish wise 
For sheltering arms, remembering 

whence they came. 

19 



WAR ]\I OTHERS 

Their mothers are afar. But thou, I 
know, 

Most wistfully, who Mother art to all, 

Forever through the battle 's rage dost 
go 

To soothe thy piteous sons where'er 
they fall. 

"When their poor plaintive tones for 
mother cry. 

Thou hear 'st — and swift their heaven- 
ly Mother's nigh. 



20 



ON WOMEN'S DAY 

DOWN the hushed streets and 
through the gazing files 
They march in ranks who never 

marched before. 
All the loud city hath arrayed its 

aisles 
With cleanliness and peace. Are these 
the ranks of war? 

Down the street, 

Where the swirling tides of gazers 

part and meet, 
Where the town 
Looks with thousand eyes from every 

vantage down, 
And the craggy buildings, grim and 

high. 
Lift their living wreaths of watchers 

toward the sky, 

21 



WAR MOTHERS 

Under windows crowded with the 

world, 
Lo, the marching files of women come, 
With the martial cry of fife and roar 

of drum, 
Stepping, stepping on, erect, benign, 
Stepping forward strongly and in line. 

Who are here? 

Why the crowd's exulting gaze, its 
reverential cheer? 

Look on these novel files, man, and 
see 

The hope and emblem of Democracy ! 

For in these lines that come and pass 
and still 

Pour onward with a calm, unweary- 
ing will [free! 

Behold the mothers of the brave and 

22 



WAR MOTHERS 

Here are the rich and poor, 

Side by side, 

The old, the strong to endure, 

And yesterday's bride. 

Love has leveled their difference 

away. 
All in the ranks they march to-day. 

And lo, they march ! A pride 

Is in their port and mien, 

A thrill they may not hide 

Through all the files is seen. 

What do they think of? Yonder as 

they go 
What memory shakes them, walking 

row on row? 

'Tis of their soldier far away. 
What would he say 

23 



WAR MOTHERS 

If he could see them marching strong 

and free? 
They hear, each one, a voice across 

the sea: 
''Keep ranks. Step straight. Hold 

high in line ! ' ' 
They hear, and heed, each one with 

courage stern and fine — 
They are his soldiers and their chief 

is he. 

And some there are 

Young, straight, and lissom. They 

can bear [care. 

Right bitter burdens, shoulder heavy 
And a new courage in their heart is 

born, 
And soberness grows in them every 

mom 

24 



WAR ]\I OTHERS 

Now they are left and he is gone 
afar. 

And others walk in weariness; for 

they 
Are the old mothers and their strength 

is gone. 
They are the props and pillars of the 

State. 
Out of their toil and travail cities 

dawn, 
And nations gain new sons. Securely 

great 
The land that hath great mothers for 

its stay. 
In vain its legions and its fleets would 

roam 
Did these not keep the sacred fires of 

hom^e. 

25 



WAR MOTHERS 

And so they swing along; 

Their silence is a song 

Majestic and insistent and elate. 

Out of their weakness sprung 

A mighty strength is flung 

Across the seas, where sons and 

brothers wait. 
The nation's inner strength is here 

displayed — 
These women and their sons are not 

afraid. 

And who, 

Piercing the years, avails with pre- 
science true 

The conquests to foretell 

Of womanhood, that learns to march 
so well? 



26 



WAR MOTHERS 

God, 

Who keeps them holy and in secret 

sees 
Their hidden sacrifice and sanctities, 
Doth here impart 
Some fleeting glimpse of woman's 

strength and art. 
Long they have trod. 
In great processional, the silent ways 
Of service through obscure and useful 

days. 
Now, set in ranks for all the world to 

see. 
May w^e divine 
Their po^ver from this brave and 

weary line. 
These are the conquering legions of 

the heart. 



27 



TO THE BLESSED JEANNE 
D'ARC 

AH, sacred Jeanne, 
With all endeavor 
I never can 

Achieve thy glorious praise, which 
haunts my heart forever! 

In thee 

The very soul of France I see. 

Her splendid valor lights thy holy 

form 
In the wild battle's storm; 
And where thy heaven-sent courage 

is displayed, 
thou foredestined and anointed 

Maid, 
'Tis all thy fervid nation wields the 

blade. 

29 



WAR MOTHERS 

Yea, through thy drear, strange tor- 
ment in the flame, 

Calling on Jesu's name, 

'Tis France, sweet France, now an- 
guished, that I see 

Triumphing through her agonies like 
thee. 

Out of the smoky pall 

She hears her voices call! 

Her better soul hath birth 

From devastated earth; 

A purifying fire 

Hath lit again her old, serene desire. 

From this brief pain a secular joy 
shall be. 

And conquering, no less 

Than thou, from all that fiery, swift 
distress, [hears 

Through all her pain a chorusing she 
30 



WAR ]\I OTHERS 

Of the approaching years, 

Singing forever "Victory, victory!" 

Maid of battles, bright 

With an unearthly glory. 

Thou virginal, dear knight 

Of France's deathless story, 

How hath thy blushing prowess now 

again 
Eclipsed in feats of war her valiant 

men! 
For, in thy nation's hour of high 

emprise, 
When on their sacred native land 
Once more at bay her valiant legions 

stand, 
On thee those fighting millions turn 

their eyes. 

31 



WAR ]\I OTHERS 

Thou art their guiding star 

In the thick ranks of war. 

E'en Bayard is forgot; 

The mighty paladins of Charlemagne, 

Roland and Oliver and the shining 
train, 

Unto these moiling legions matter 
not. 

With joy of heavenly aid, with mar- 
tial glee, 

They turn their gaze, their kindling 
gaze, on thee, 

And drink from thy most pure and 
fearless glance 

The shining trust, the valorous soul, 
of France! 

I hear the sullen roaring of the guns, 
Those all-devouring ones 

32 



WAR MOTHERS 

That bite thy quivering land and 

leave it sore. 
Ah, in their din they speak 
Hatreds of nations, all the anguish 

bleak 
Of vanished battles. Blood and 

groans and tears 
From the departed years 
Revive, and swell the discord of their 

roar. 

Then, on the darkness of the wilder- 

ing storm 
Rises a Maiden's form, 
Her virginal limbs arrayed 
With the strange steel that Albion's 

hosts dismayed. 
Her tender face is bright 
With wonderful pure light, 

33 



WAR MOTHERS 

And the soft lightening of her fear- 
less eyes 

The gathering foe defies. 

* ' Jeanne ! Jeanne ! Thou lead 'st us 
still; we follow thee!" 

The very wounded cry — and leap to 
victory. 

And so 

Thou fair, brave maiden with the soul 

of fire, 
Thou art undying now. Thy heart 

shall go 
Leading in every charge and all thy 

ranks inspire. 
For every great advance 
There is a captain for the arms of 

France. 

34 



WAR ]\I OTHERS 

And can we fear 

Lest thy great power shall fail in any 

year? 
Or, weak of courage, doubt 
That thy keen, heaven- wrought sword 

shall put all foes to rout? 

Ah, not in vain, 

Girl of Domremy, all thy woe and 

pain, 
The voices and the wonder and the 

fear! 
Not vain the searing fire 
That matched thy soul's desire 
And set thee free from all that bound 

thee here ! 

Thou art immortal now, in every war 
Thy country's avatar, 

35 



WAR MOTHERS 

Her hope, her liberty. 
Her soul hath passed to thee, 
And thy bright memory keeps her 
spirit free! 



TO A WARRIOR GONE 

OLORD MICHAEL, puissant and 
glorious, 
Tell me how he came to thee, where 

thy legions are. 
From the dark and from the din, the 

stark fray uproarious, 
Winning up his eager way from star 
unto star. 

Did he come before his time from 

that fight furious, 
Leaping up the lanes of light before 

he heard a call, 
Ere he wearied of the earth, of 

heaven curious, 
Casting mortal days away ere he 

gleaned them all? 



37 



WAR MOTHERS 

How I fain would hear of him in that 

new mustering 
Where his welcomed spirit shines 

midst his holy peers, 
Where the gallant hosts of God in 

gold glory clustering 
Shout for the new recruits coming 

through the years! 

He will be a noble guard, in white 

armor glistening, 
Where the Blessed Mary goes with 

her gentle train. 
He will stand in golden state, to her 

voice listening. 
While she sings ''Magnificat" and 

heaven thrills again. 



38 



WAR MOTHERS 

He will touch a mighty harp to great 

lays and beautiful; 
They will gather there to list as we 

came here, 
While he sings to every saint fair 

songs and dutiful, 
Chanting with a new voice, charming 

heaven's ear. 

He will give to Christ the King his 

great heart's loyalty. 
Loving to be near to Him, eyes on 

Him alone. 
What will his station be in God's 
r^ bright royalty? 

He will join the flaming band that 

stand about the throne; 



39 



WAR MOTHERS 

He will watch the White Throne, his 

bright lance carrying, 
And be Our Lady's messenger, her 

little ones to aid; 
He will love to come again, in old 

haunts tarrying, 
Bringing Blessed Mary's help when 

we cry afraid ; 

He will walk in heaven's streets and 

seek their holy history. 
Loving every stone of them worn by 

human feet; 
He will yearn to untwine the stars' 

sweet mystery — 
Oh, the quest for holy lore, he will 

find it sweet! 



40 



WAR MOTHERS 

Lord Michael, puissant and glori- 
ous, 

Tell me how he came to thee, where 
thy legions are, 

From the dark and from the din, the 
stark fray uproarious, 

Winning up his eager way from star 
unto star. 



41 



TO SERGEANT JOYCE KILMER 

Slain in Battle, 
July Thirtieth, Nineteen Eighteen 

I 

DEAD?— 
Dull page, thou liest. He shall 

live forever. 
His fiery spirit but begins to live. 
He hath achieved what was his great 

endeavor, 
Winning that Life that only death 

can give. 
Forever keen to run where honor led, 
If he be gone 
It was his dauntless soul, not death, 

that bare him on. 
Ah, honor, honor, honor on his head ! 

I know — [the foe. 

Ye need not tell — his face was toward 

43 



WAR MOTHERS 

He was far forward in the panting 

line; 
He did his part right well, 
And when he fell 
His comrades wept — it could not but 

be so. 
To be far forward was his gracious 

art — 
He had a nation's valor in his heart! 

Ye say- 
He had been oft in peril ere the day, 
Oft crept beyond into the Place of 

Fear, 
Outlying in the grim and perilous 

dark 
That haply he might mark 
Some stirring of the foe, some whis- 
pering tidings hear. 
44 



WAR MOTHERS 

Ah, those long hours he wrestled with 

dismay ! 
He scorned not pain and fear — he 

was more strong than they. 

Then do not weep; 

Or weep for us that knew him and 

are lorn. 
He doth not sleep, 

But wakes in vigor to another morn. 
That passion and endeavor and desire 
Blossom to glory in a kindlier air. 
Yea, we might be right merry for his 

sake 
If we but knew that joy whereto he*s 

gone, 
And comfort take. 
Catching some glimpses of his sudden 

dawn. 

45 



WAR MOTHERS 

Yet here, 

Even in the passion of our loyal 

pride, 
A furtive tear 
Reminds our hearts how great a 

friend hath died. 
It is no treason for ourselves to 

grieve. 
But thou, dear friend, in thy new 

life receive 
Our everlasting honor and acclaim. 
Thine earthly fame. 
Which is a shadow to the glories great 
That Christ prepares for thee, 
Who set thy spirit free 
With His bright champions round 

His throne to wait 
In that eternal pomp, that deathless 

jubilee. 
46 



TO SERGEANT JOYCE KILMER 
II 

TT was an eagerness, not martial 

-*• pride, 

That took him to the front of raging 
fire. 

It was an eagerness that ever tried 

To struggle nearer to his chief desire. 

He thirsted for his God and hastened 
hence 

As to a holy tryst. He lightly died 

Because to die in all mankind's de- 
fence 

Would lift him nearer to the Cruci- 
fied. 

Sweet friend, I have for thee nor 
grief nor fears, 

47 



WAR MOTHERS 

My tears are all for others than for 
thee. 

I would not wrong thy memory with 
tears ; 

Death was thy life and set thy glory 
free. 

It is for us who linger that I weep, 

For we must travel slowly down the 
years ; [leap, 

Thou gainest heaven with a sudden 

How far, to us, that golden goal ap- 
pears ! 

It was thy manner — swiftly to attain, 
To run the course whilst others sought 

the way! 
Thou hadst a sweet facility to gain 
Some instant prize, impatient of de- 
lay. 
48 



WAR MOTHERS 

Thou couldst so featly, from the 
nimble dance 

Of passing deeds, abiding joys detain, 

Master the fickle shifts of circum- 
stance, 

And make a song from weariness or 
pain ! 

Thou wast a poet, living songs more 

sweet 
Than thou couldst sing. Thy passing 

was a song. 
Thy greatest, which the ages shall 

repeat 
And dwell with yearning on its echoes 

long. 
All of thine other songs have light 

from this, 

49 



WAR MOTHERS 

In this vast concord all thy singing 
meets ; 

Here, thou hast snared the very soul 
of bliss, 

This vast refrain thy melodies com- 
pletes ! 



50 



MOTHER OF ORPHANS 

DEEP 
In their white cots, the Belgian 

orphans sleep, 
Dear, tired waifs, for a great sea of 

woe 
Hath tossed them to and fro 
Most wearily. So, tranquil now they 

rest, 
Each in a snowy nest. 
The roaring waves of war their prey 

release 
On these soft coasts of peace. 

Poor dears! They're motherless! 
And they are most in need of mother 

now. 
They need her looks to bless 
Their tender days. How every little 

brow 

51 



WAR MOTHERS 

Yearns for a lingering kiss, a strok- 
ing hand — 

Oh, are they all quite orphaned in 
the land? 

Ah, see ! 

They moan; and restlessly 

Their tiny hands are groping in their 

dreams. 
It is too sad a thing ! 
More cruel than wildest war this deep 

privation seems — 
These lambs want mothering ! 

Then, in the loneliest hour of all the 

night, [cry. 

The Lady Mary hears in heaven their 

In that undreamed-of and exultant 

light 

52 



WAR MOTHERS 

She harks, and lo! is in an instant 

nigh. 
As a fond mother, lightly sleeping, 

hears 
Her infant wail, so straightway she 

appears ! 

Ah, how her lingering kiss 

Wakes in lone little hearts vague 

dreams of bliss, 
And the soft thrill of her caressing 

touch 
Can comfort them who have endured 

so much ! 
For she doth know 
The very art of mothers. She could 

keep 
The little Jesus cuddled in His sleep. 

53 



WAR MOTHERS 

Thus to and fro 

She gives these babes that wondrous 

sweet caress 
Which God's own Son was used to 

soothe and bless, 
Mothers them dearly, for she loves 

them so. 
And after she hath lulled them for a 

while 
And back to heaven must go, 
Even in their sleep these wan, small 

orphans smile! 



54 



TO HIS MOTHER 

'Vr AY, never weep. 

-^^ For he hath won beyond all 
sad tomorrows; 

His weary ashes sleep 

Far in sweet France ; his soul, assoiled 
of sorrows, 

With unsuspected longing leaps be- 
fore 

Unto his God. He lives. So weep 
no more. 

I know — 

A mother's heart 

Is fertile still of tears. 

Her griefs unbidden start, 

And she will not be tutored in her 

woe. 
Her anxious love is very full of fears. 

55 



WAR MOTHERS 

Ah, love must bleed and suffer all the 

years ! — 
God made all mothers so. 

But now 

Thy time of grief is over. He is 

gone, 
But is not lost. Nay, rather he has 

won 
Abiding peace. Christ cherishes thy 

son. 
There is a light of glory on his brow. 
While all exultant ages carol on 
He shall have naught but joy where 

God hath put him now. 

Ah, wouldst thou pray 
To have him caught again in webs of 
care ? 
56 



WAR MOTHERS 

How serious and worthy was his way 
Through a swift death to lasting 

glories there! 
He won his goal with such a brief 

delay ! 

Wouldst thou^ dear mother, have him 

once again 
Take up the burden of uncertain 

years ; 
Give pledges untc weariness and pain ; 
And be the toy of woe, the sport of 

fears ? 

Then leave 

All bootless sorrow Only pine and 

grieve 
For those that know not honor, faith, 

and truth. 

57 



WAR MOTHERS 

Thy dear one doth receive 
For his brief dying an immortal 
youth. 

Swift through the years to his dear 

arms thou 'It go, 
For God hath planned it so. 
And life but leads thee nearer day 

by day 
To that celestial tryst, that secular 

holiday ! 



PRINTED BY BENZIGER BROTHERS, NEW YORK. 
58 



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HECKMAN 

BINDERY INC. 

^^ DEC 88 



